Coping
by The Man Himself
Summary: A JeanMarco fic in which Jean is straight. Tragically sad.


Marco started acting strangely around ninth grade. Jean didn't realize it, at first. He figured Marco was just going through some weird phase, or shit like that. So what if he noticed Marco looking at him more than usual? So what if he sometimes saw a light blush dusting Marco's cheeks? It was probably perfectly normal. Or something.

Jean pushed it to the back of his mind, and he didn't think about it for half a year.

That summer, Marco went to visit his cousins in Indiana, as usual. Jean spent the summer playing soccer, hanging out with some friends and basically just messing around. It was summer, so it was _awesome_, but it was also kinda boring. He wished Marco would come back.

He returned in late July, and the first thing Jean noticed was how tall he was. Jean had always been the taller of the two, but now Marco towered over him by at least three inches. Jean pointed it out the minute he saw him.

"Wow, man, you're tall!"

Marco grinned slightly, looking sheepish. "I'm not that tall. I just grew a few inches." His voice was accented slightly, as is always was right after he returned from his cousin's place.

"Yeah, well, I didn't grow at all. You're lucky! You're not scrawny anymore. I thought for sure you'd be a beanpole forever, but I guess I was wrong," Jean laughed. "Hey, maybe you'll finally get a girlfriend this year!"

"Yeah, and maybe you'll finally have some luck with Mikasa," Marco teased.

Jean winced. "Hey, man, that hurt." Then he smirked. "I think I might be making progress, though. I'm planning to ask her out this year." Jean didn't notice the slight frown on Marco's features.

Then he smiled. "Fine. I'll admit, you _might_ get a girlfriend this year."

"Hey! I will definitely get Mikasa to go out with me!" Jean smiled goofily. "No woman alive can resist my charms!" He elbowed Marco in the ribs. "You're blown away, right?" Marco turned the color of a tomato.

"R... right. Can't resist."

Outwardly he smiled, but inwardly, at that moment, Jean realized somewhere deep in his mind that Marco was dead serious.

They spent the rest of the summer enjoying their freedom. Jean somehow convinced Marco that it would be a good idea to T.P. the front lawn of one 'Eren Jaeger'. It was surprisingly easy, actually. Marco seemed to be happy to do whatever Jean wanted for some reason. Anyway, Jaeger had been royally pissed. It was hilarious.

Jean completely forgot about how weird Marco was acting. Or rather, he convinced himself it was no big deal.

Then, the Saturday before school started, Jean was forced to finally acknowledged that something was going on.

Jean had woken up and immediately started panicking.

"Holy shit! Marco!" Jean screamed into his phone. On the other side of the call he heard a thump, as if someone had fallen out of bed.

"What is it, Jean?" a long-suffering voice asked.

"It's the last weekend of summer! School starts on Monday!"

Jean heard a sound that was suspiciously similar to a yawn, and then Marco said, "So? Jean, it's seven o' clock in the morning. Can this wait?"

Jean took a steadying breath. "NO IT CANNOT. SCHOOL STARTS ON MONDAY. _**MONDAY**_. GET OFF YOUR ASS AND GET THE HELL OVER HERE, WE ARE GOING TO ENJOY THE SHIT OUT OF OUR LAST TWO DAYS OF LIFE."

Jean heard another thud on the other line, as if someone who had recently gotten back in bed just fell out again.

"...Fine. Where are we going?"

"This pool sucks," Jean whined. Marco just sighed.

"Hey, don't blame me. It was your idea in the first place."

"Shut up."

It was true, though. The pool really did suck. It was simply a small outdoor pool, no hot tub, no diving board, and no heating. Nobody ever went there, and no one knew why it was still open.

Jean groaned. "I can't believe I thought this would be a good idea."

Marco shrugged. "Well, let's go back-" He suddenly yelped as Jean pushed him into the pool. "Hey! What was that... for?" Marco stared at Jean, who was pulling his shirt over his head. "Oh,... um..." he muttered softly. Jean didn't notice, he was running towards Marco.

"Cannonball!" Jean yelled, leaping through the air. Too late, he realized that he was about to land on Marco. "Ahh-!"

They went down in a tangle of arms and legs, no idea which way was up. Finally Jean resurfaced, laughing and gasping for air at the same time.

"Hey, Marco, you okay?" he wheezed. He looked up and saw Marco, his face a florid red.

"...I really hate you." he muttered. Jean grinned.

"You're cute when you blush," Jean teased."You look like a bride. Can I be the groom?"

He snickered at his own lame joke, expecting Marco to laugh too. He turned, saying, "Hey, Marco-" His laughter died in his throat.

Marco wasn't looking at him, but from his expression, Jean could tell something was wrong.

"Hey, um, Marco... are you okay?" he ventured tentatively.

Marco blinked and shook his head. He smiled, looking strained. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said quickly. "Why?"

Jean frowned. "Um, no. You're really not. I know you well enough to tell when something isn't right."

Marco shook his head. He smiled sadly. "You're nuts, Jean. Totally nuts." Jean suddenly realized he really shouldn't be prying. So he tried to diffuse the situation the best way he knew how- laugh it off.

"Hey! I take offense to that! I am perfectly sane!" Jean splashed Marco, trying to cover up the awkward conversation they'd just had.

To his relief, Marco smiled and splashed him back.

"Hey, Marco?" Jean asked lazily. They were having a floating competition, to see who could stay up the longest without drowning. Jean's fingers had already turned prune-like. "Have you ever liked anybody?"

"Jean, if you try to distract me again, I swear-" Marco muttered darkly.

"No, I'm serious. You have to have liked someone. It's not possible to be sixteen already and not have liked someone yet."

Marco sighed. "This is a stupid question...Yeah, I like someone."

"Who?"

"I am in love with the triple-decker special at R&E's steakhouse."

Jean laughed. "That one really is delicious. Man, now I'm hungry." He grinned. "But seriously, who do you like?"

Marco went quiet. "... Not anyone," he muttered finally.

"Bullshit."

"No, really. I don't... _like _any girls."

"No way. You gotta like _some_one."

Marco sighed, slightly irritated. "Fine. I like someone. Happy?"

"Who, then?"

Silence.

"C'mon, tell me!"

"No," Marco said quickly. He was blushing bright red.

Jean rolled over, so he was floating on his stomach. He gave Marco his best puppy eyes.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze?" he whined. Marco swallowed nervously, his face still red.

"No."

Jean frowned. He stood up in the water, completely forgetting about their contest. Marco did likewise.

"C'mon, man," he wheedled. "What's her name?"

"No."

Jean frowned. Marco was really adamant about this, wasn't he? Jean felt his curiosity rising. Time to bring out the big guns.

"Jean, what are you- AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Stop it, Jean- HAHAHA- wait, no- AHAHAHA, oh god, stoppit, Jean-"

Jean resumed his tickling, grinning demonically. "Tell me!" he yelled, but Marco was laughing too hard to respond. Jean decided to let up a little bit, to allow him to breathe- and Marco retaliated.

"Wait, no- AHAHAHAHAHAH- Marco, stop- god- AHAHAHA-"

Finally, they broke apart, wheezing. They circled each other warily, waiting to see who would make the first move...

Jean attacked first. He lunged forward, aiming for Marco's stomach, but missed. Marco dodged, and attacked from behind. Jean went down, laughing and gasping for air. Some how he managed to twist around and flailed wildly, trying to push Marco away. He felt the back of his hand connect with a face, so he grabbed Marco's hair and pulled his head down, trying to dunk him in the water. Jean turned his head- and found himself two inched from Marco's face, his fingers tangled in his hair. Marco froze too, his mouthed parted slightly- and suddenly he leaned forward and kissed Jean on the lips.

It was an awkward kiss. Their position was all wrong- noses bumped and their teeth clicked together. Still, Marco's lips were soft but forceful, and Jean felt himself unconsciously kissing him back. Then he remember exactly what he was doing.

He jerked backwards, wrenching himself away from Marco.

"Dude!" he yelled. "What the hell, man! What was that?!"

Marco didn't answer. His eyes were glazed slightly, he looked dazed.

Then his eyes refocused, and he blushed so hard he resembled a tomato. He suddenly looked horrified, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just done. He made to step forward, and Jean backed up slightly, not knowing what to do. Marco noticed, and seemed to realize what the small gesture meant. He looked like his heart had just been wrenched out of his chest. He stared at the bottom of the pool, looking like he wished he could vanish.

Jean was in shock. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but he still didn't know what to do. He resorted to auto-pilot. He ran.

Jean spent the rest of the day in his room. He kept going over what had happened in his mind. _Marco had kissed him? Where had _that_ come from?_ He was genuinely shocked, until he remembered how Marco had been acting strangely ever since ninth grade. Suddenly, the way he used to look at Jean and then blush slightly didn't seem so unimportant. The way he was happy to do whatever Jean wanted no longer seemed insignificant.

_Holy shit... _Jean thought._ Was Marco in _love_ with him? _Sure, Jean might have wondered a little bit if Marco swung that way, but still. Jean was ninety-nine point nine percent sure he himself was straight, and Marco knew that. Why would Marco fall for him, then? Jean turned it over in his mind until he eventually fell asleep, his features set in a tight frown.

Around three o clock in the morning, he was awoken by the annoying ring of his phone. He picked it up without looking at the caller-ID.

"Hello?" he muttered sleepily.

"Jean?" a voice asked. It was Armin Arlert, a friend he had met through Marco and school.

"Where's Marco?"

"Huh?"

"Where. Is. Marco. Bodt." Armin said tightly, sounding worried. "Apparently he's missing. Nobody has seen at all today, and he never came home. His parents asked us all to look for him."

Jean sucked in his breath. "He's... missing?" he whispered. He suddenly felt guilty. Had Marco decided to run away because of him?

Armin could tell something was wrong from Jean's silence.

"Jean?" he said anxiously. "What happened?"

"He... he kissed me this afternoon." Jean muttered, then instantly regretted saying it. Why had he felt the need to tell Armin that?

So Jean was very surprised when Armin just muttered, "Finally."

"Wh... what? What do you mean, finally?"

Armin sighed. "Jean, Marco has been half in love with you since forever. Everyone knows."

"Seriously?!" Jean yelped. "But I'm straight!"

"Marco knew that, you idiot. He can't control who he gets a crush on! Do you have any idea how he felt? It was torture for him, knowing that no matter what, you couldn't ever like him back. He must have finally not been able to take it, and that's why he kissed you." Armin suddenly sounded worried. "Wait. When he kissed you, how did you react?"

"I just... ran... away..." As the words left his mouth, Jean felt sick. Marco had been in love with him for forever? It was torture for him? He couldn't 'take it' anymore? "Oh my God."

Jean dropped the phone, sprinting down the stairs and out of the house. His bare feet pounded against the asphalt as he ran, trying to get to the pool. Had Marco- Oh God, had Marco really-?

There was only thought running through his head. Where was Marco _? _Jean picked up the pace, desperate to reach him. That was when the car appeared out of nowhere. He was knocked out so fast, he didn't even feel pain.

Jean woke up in the hospital, surrounded by beeping noises and strange people in scrubs.

"He's awake! Don't let him fall asleep again!" an anxious voice yelled.

A bright light shone in his eye. "Can you hear me, kid?" the voice asked. "What's your name?"

Jean didn't think he would be able to move his mouth, but some how he managed.

"Jean... Kirchstein," he ground out around his massive headache.

"Great, kid, good job. Why were you out in the street at three o' clock at night?"

Jean struggled to remember- why _had_ he been out there...? "Marco!" Jean cried, suddenly realizing. "Marco!" He tried to sit up, but strong hands held him down.

"Jeezus, kid! You've got a punctured stomach and half a liver, and God knows how many broken bones. Sit the hell down!"

Jean meekly settled down again. "...Marco..." he murmured.

"You're really worried about this Marco person, huh? Well, the guy who called 911 for you says his name is Marco Bodt, so if that's the guy you're worried about, he's fine." Jean sighed in relief. Marco was okay... that meant Jean could go to sleep... "Whoa, kid, wake up! Hey!" the voice yelled. It sounded worried. "He's going to fall asleep!" Jean saw vague shapes flutter around his head. People were yelling. Something about a coma? Jean tried to stay awake, but he couldn't stop his eyes from sliding shut.

The second time Jean woke up, someone was sitting next to him.

"Where am I?" he wondered. The person sitting next to him raised their head, and Jean could see who it was. "Hey, Marco," he rasped. "I was worried about you."

Marco smiled shakily. "You don't need to worry about me Jean. I'm not the one in the hospital."

"Still..." Jean said. He tried to sit up, but Marco reached out and held him down.

"Jean, lie down. You shouldn't move." Marco took Jean's hand. "The doctors said you lost so much blood, they were afraid... they were afraid-" His voice broke. "They were afraid you wouldn't wake up." Marco tasted tears, and realized he was crying. "Jean, I thought you were going to die!"

Jean smiled softly. "I'm sorry, Marco." He sighed. "I'm sorry."

Marco nodded, understanding what Jean was trying to say. "It's okay, Jean. It wasn't your fault."

He reached over and gently ran his fingers through Jean's hair. Jean smiled.

"Can you stay with me?" he asked. "I don't want to stay in this creepy hospital alone."

"Sure."

Marco fell asleep around five in the morning, still holding Jean's hand. The doctors considered turning him out, but his presence seemed to calm the patient down. Anyway, neither boy's parents wanted to separate them.

"I can't ask him to leave Jean," Marco's mother had said. "I feel like it would be a crime." Jean's parents agreed.

Marco woke to the sound of beeping. He raised his head and blinked. "Jean?" he muttered. He was fast asleep, his face serene. Marco sighed. He was alright.

Marco laid his head back on the bed, never letting go of Jean's hand. He felt himself relaxing, breathing in the Jean's scent, mixed with the smell of... Blood?

Marc wrenched his head up, his eyes wide with horror. There was an ever growing patch of red seeping through the sheets. He pulled the covers back, exposing blood soaked bandages around Jean's stomach.

"Oh my God." Marco whispered, his throat dry. "Jean! Jean, wake up!" He gripped Jean's hand as hard as he could, his knuckles turning white. "Help!" he screamed. "Help me!"

He heard running feet, and a doctor burst through the door. Marco was shoved out of the room, left to wait in the hallway.

At the end of the night, his fingernails were bloody from chewing them anxiously. He waited, desperately hoping that Jean would be okay. Hehad to be okay_; _otherwise Marco didn't know what he was going to do.

He could see the sun peeking over the horizon when they told him; Jean Kirchstein had died some time in the night due to blood loss and malfunctioning machinery. At first he didn't believe it. Jean was... dead? His brain did not compute. Jean may have caused him untold tons of heartache, but Marco didn't know what he would do without him. Jean was a constant, no matter what. He had come back, hadn't he? Even after Marco kissed him and confused him, he had eventually come back. He wouldn't just _leave_.

"No," Marco whispered. "He'll come back. He'll come back." He hugged himself, rocking back and forth. "He'll come back again."

The nurse stood awkwardly for a moment, before putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said lamely. What else was there to say?

"Marco, are you okay?" Armin asked anxiously. Marco stared blankly ahead, his eyes glassy. "Hey. Are you okay?" he repeated.

Marco shook his head slowly, as if waking from sleep. "Huh?" he said blearily. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine." He smiled, as if to confirm it.

Armin only frowned. Marco was most definitely not okay. His smiles reminded Armin of delicate glass; glass so thin that the slightest movement could break it into a million pieces.

Marco had been like this ever since Jean died. Everyone had been shocked, of course. Someone their age, someone they knew; he just wasn't there any more. Everyone grieved, but Marco took it worse than anyone. Sure, he acted fine and smiled, but Armin could just tell. Marco was depressed, completely and utterly.

Armin wanted to help, but what was he supposed to do?

Marco tried not to show it, he really did. He plastered a smile on his face whenever it was required of him, and he kept his voice calm and steady. He never cried, not after the night at the hospital. He couldn't cry. Something wouldn't let him.

Still, he couldn't always keep up the facade. Sometimes, a feeling of helplessness would overcome him. He would gaze off into space, not seeing anything. Memories would play in his mind's eye, over and over and over, until the only thing he could see was a blurred image of Jean, laughing or smirking or just being himself, just being alive. It was times like that when Marco felt closest to breaking.

More and more often, he would become possessed by that feeling. More and more often, he would slip into his own little world, where Jean was still alive and everything was back to normal. He wanted that world back, where he had never kissed Jean. Because some small part of Marco's mind was certain that his kiss had led to Jean's death. He denied it when he was awake, but at night, his consciousness couldn't hold back the wave of guilt. His dreams were riddled with self loathing and sadness. Every morning, he woke with tears barely held back behind blinking eyelids.

He sometimes wished he didn't have to be alive all the time.

_"Hey."_

_The voice sounded familiar. Marco twisted his head back and forth, trying to get a glimpse of the speaker. All he could see was the room he was standing in. It was small, with pictures of a forest painted on the walls. The pictures looked real, but when he tried to touch them he felt a pain in his side, as if he was being stabbed. He tried to cry out, but his voice wasn't working very well._

_"Hey," the voice said again. Marco realized it was coming from outside the room. It sounded so familiar..._

_"Jean?" he asked tentatively._

_"Yeah, it's me," Jean said. "Marco, I need to talk to you. Come out of the room."_

_Marco frowned. "I can't. The walls won't let me through."_

_Jean sighed. "Use the door, dummy."_

_Marco opened his mouth to explain that there wasn't a door, when he realized that yes, actually, there was one. It had been there the entire time. He turned the handle, and it swung open soundlessly._

_Marco looked around with wide eyes. He was back at the hospital, but no one was around. The lights were bright but not glaring. They were spotlighting an empty hospital bed, its sheets a pristine white. He walked over to it curiously, wondering why it was just sitting there. Then he noticed a red speck on the white expanse. It was only the size of a dime, but it possessed a strange, sinister quality. Marco backed away, but his feet couldn't move fast enough. The red spot was growing, spilling over the bed and advancing across the floor. Marco knew it was blood._

_He felt himself shaking with terror. The blood wasn't his. It was Jean's._

_"Help," he whispered. Why was nobody coming? He opened his mouth to yell, when he felt a presence next to him_

_"Marco," Jean said softly. "It's okay."_

_Marco wanted to argue. "You're bleeding!" he shouted, "You'll bleed to death!"_

_Jean just smiled. "I'm gonna be okay. It's not something to worry about." Marco looked disbelievingly at him. "Look. It won't touch you." Marco looked down, and sure enough: the blood was flowing around him, leaving a clear circle where his feet were. However, it was washing around Jean's ankles, climbing up his legs._

_"No!" Marco screamed. "Leave him alone!" He tried to grab Jean, but his fingers passed through him._

_Jean grabbed Marco's wrist, somehow making contact. "I told you, it's okay," he stated calmly. The blood had reached his waist. Marco wished he didn't seem so calm._

_Then his eyes widened in shock. Jean was leaning over and... kissing him? Marco didn't know how to react. He sort of wanted to pull away, but a larger part of him wanted the kiss. He began to relax and sink into it, enjoying the taste of Jean's lips. After what felt like forever, they broke apart._

_"Wh... what..." Marco stuttered. Jean laughed._

_"I needed to pay you back for that other kiss. That one had been my first, you know." He smirked. Marco stared. The blood was up to his chest, and it kept steadily rising. He tried to reach out to Jean again, but, as before, his fingers passed through him._

_Jean smiled sadly. "You can't save me, Marco." he whispered."Listen to me. I don't want you to worry about me. I'm fine. I want you to live your life. Don't stay in the shadows."_

_The blood had reached his neck, and then it began to spread over his face. Just before Jean was fully covered, Marco thought he heard him say, "Fall in love with somebody better next time, okay?" Then the blood rippled over his face, and Jean dissolved._

Marco woke up, and noticed a strange saltiness in his face. He had cried. Finally, _finally_, he had been able to cry.


End file.
